Naghsh-i Jahan: Answer to the "Loneliness of Liberalism"

Naghsh-i Jahan Square, view from the iwan at Ali Qapu Palace.

Could brick and mortar help harmonize a society?

In the West, the question might bring to mind building border fences to keep out illegal immigrants and terrorists.

The Iranians of an age long gone had something else in mind.

I’m standing in Naghsh-i Jahan Square of Isfahan built by Shah Abbas I when this city was the capital of the Safavid Dynasty.

The label “square” does not do it justice. It’s more like a rectangular arena the size of perhaps four or five football fields, so big that during this hazy day people on the other side are not visible.

What’s the king doing? Where are the mullahs? Naghsh-i Jahan Square, one of the largest in the world, held the answers in the Iran of 400 years ago.

It’s one of the largest squares in the world and one of UNESCO’s World Heritage Sites.

The four sides are lined with artisan shops, each with an identical façade. Behind them run the bazaars for various types of crafts, their dark noisy corridors peppered with dusty rays of sun.

The top of the façade is even throughout, a straight line around me. That’s the Persian architect’s way of establishing cohesion and stating respect for oneness of all, says my guide and art historian Abdulreza Soleimani.

There are four places that the skyline does break. On the north side is the entrance to the Isfahan’s Grand Bazaar; on the east, the Sheikh Lotf Allah Mosque; on the south-side the Shah Mosque; and on the west, the Ali Qapu Palace.

“You have every organ of society all meeting in this one square,” Soleimani explains. “The bazaar represents commerce. The Sheikh Lotf Allah Mosque was really a school, so it represented academia. The Shah Mosque represented religion, and the Ali Qapu [Palace], that was were the king sat.

“Every element of society was not only here, they actually could watch each other,” he goes on. “Sheik Lotf Allah knew what was going on across the street with the king and likewise the mullahs at the Shah Mosque were in touch and simultaneously accountable for what they were doing.

“This is how the square instituted a kind of equilibrium and accountability between the top elements of the society.

“It also provided a rhythm and humanity to life. If one morning the Haj Agha across the square didn’t open up his shop, the other shopkeepers would send a messenger to his home to find out why.

“Say the news comes back that he’s dead. Then the entire square would shut down. Everyone would pull down their shutters, go and bury their colleague, then come back, open up his shop, put his son in charge, and only then go back to business as usual.

“Then there was the productivity aspect. If I’m a copper artistan here and hear others clanging away with their hammers, this would inspire me to also be productive. But if I was on the other side of the town, then I would be alone there. I would never be as inspired to contribute, to create, to fabricate art.

“You see, the square inspired community and thereby provided security and peace of mind. Because people were part of the community, they could concentrate on their craft. It’s that peace of mind that allowed people to create the kind of world-class art you see here.

“The community ruled, not the individual. The fabric of community was so strong that no one man—not even the king—would dare to force himself over it.

“Later on, during the Qajar dynasty and the influence of the West, the palace moved away from the square, like it is in the West. Now the king was dependent on the intermediators—today’s lobbyists. He fell out of touch with society and, as you know, that’s when things went downhill with Iran.

“And the society fell in love with the liberalism of the West, the worship of the individual, which leads to a dictatorship of the self.

“Yes, they have more material things; the individual imagines and builds fantastic things, but at the end of the day he’s alone; he’s less of a human. In Europe, a person actually prefers to be with a dog or cat sitting at home instead of interacting with other human beings.

“They call it democracy and freedom, but in reality it’s about the individual being out of control, doing as they wish, not respecting and not benefiting from the wisdom of the community.

“Now tell me, what kind of a person is not a dictator? The person who is just.

“But just people are rare in the West. We know that because the amount Westerners spend just on their dogs and cats would easily wipe out starvation in Africa. But they won’t do it.

“This is how we know that liberalism has not produced justice.

The academics at the Sheikh Lotf Allah Mosque could literally watch the Ali Qapu Palace across Naghsh-i Jahan Square, one of the largest in the world.

Back at the hotel, my father and I learn from EuroNews that journalists have laid siege to Tom Cruise’s hotel ahead of his wedding this weekend.

Some people have paid 100,000 euros to watch the wedding, the satellite television report says.

“A hundred thousand euros! Can you believe that?” I exclaim.

It’s applicable to where we are. An Iranian medical school graduate might make as little as $300 a month but an apartment in Tehran can easily cost $500/month to rent.

“It’s the sick system, not the people,” my father says with a contemptuous hiss. He glances back at me and flashes his trademark I-told-you smile. He is referring to the countless debates we’ve had over the alleged immorality of the West.

“When you are raised a certain way, this is where you end up. It’s the system; it’s not Tom Cruise. Mr. Tom Cruise would never be Tom Cruise outside this system. It’s the system that turns people into these pointless lives.”

I respond: “The system gives people what they’re asking for. The journalists are just providing a product.”

“Precisely,” he smiles again. “That’s what I’m saying too. If they are just peddling a product, then they are not journalists anymore. It’s corporate profit-taking, not journalism.

“Please forgive my language, but it becomes pimping.”